Turnabout Tactics
by The Erudite
Summary: Maribelle always feared this day. Gaius stands accused of a thievery that will see him put to death, and with a strange and convolute mystery waiting in the shadows, only one man has the savoir-faire to save the thief and discover the truth.
1. Chapter 1

Turnabout Tactics

Maribelle sighed to herself, tugging at the shoulders of her perfectly refined clothes to ensure she was looking her best. It was to be an… interesting day, the trial that would unfold was sure to be a sight for her to see. The accused was… special. She couldn't bear to think of him in the context she had known him so long. She couldn't allow her judgment to be clouded by her feelings. She stepped into the courtroom, running a hand along her hair, prepared for what was sure to be one of the most trying experiences of her life. There he sat, the bowl-cut, ragged, orange hair cropped and sitting flatly upon his head, a black bandana tied around it. He had a lollipop shoved into his mouth, like always, and was biting on the stick as she took to her desk and picked up the summary of charges that lay upon it. After what seemed like forever in the little courthouse, several pairs of eyes, ranging from utterly disinterested to riveted, staring straight down on them, Maribelle's lips parted and she began to read from the paper: "Mr. Gaius. You stand accused of stealing several priceless artifacts from the personal treasury of Exalt Chrom, the punishment for which is death. How do you plead?"

His green eyes narrowed and fixated on her. She could sense the sweat on his brow and the tension in his cheeks as he opened his mouth, pulling the lollipop out of it, "I plead…"

"Pardon me, Lady Maribelle, but it would appear that Mr. Gaius stands without legal representation," commented the gray-bearded, balding man who sat at a bench before Maribelle.

"Oh, indeed, Your Honor," she composed herself, "I suppose I'm simply in a bit of a hurry to have this trial over with."

"Don't sweat it, pops," Gaius grumbled from the stand, "nobody's a-coming to defend some worthless petty thief like yours truly."

"Still," the man sighed, reclining in his seat, "protocol dictates that we wait—"

"Gods curse your damn protocol," Gaius sneered, "just bang your little hammer and end this stupid shindig."

"Can I consider that a confession, Mr. Gaius?" the judge inquired, carefully stroking his beard.

"Su—"

"Hold it!" beseeched a voice from the other side of the courtroom. Maribelle's head whipped around to examine its source. Her eyes widened at the sight of her former comrade, Robin, standing in the doorway, folding together a set of papers. "Please, hold on, Your Honor, Gaius does have legal representation," he begged, hastening to the table that was opposite Maribelle's own.

"Oh, yeah?" Gaius cocked an eyebrow, "And who's that, Bubbles?"

"You're looking at him," the tactician remarked flatly, spreading a few binders out on the table.

"You can't be serious…" he dismissed, "you're not even a lawyer!"

"Oh?" a smile crept across Robin's face, "what did you think I was doing after the Grima affair? Not a lot of use for a tactician when there's no war to fight."

"But… why me?" Gaius stared back at his comrade. His desperation shifted into a grim smirk, "Anyone with eyes could tell ya this heist was all me."

"I don't think so," Robin shook his head elaborately. "The defense," he adjusted his lapel, "intends to prove Gaius is completely innocent of the crime for which he is accused. His plea is 'not guilty,' Your Honor."

"You're makin' a mistake, Bubbles," Gaius sighed.

"I suppose that means we have some business to attend to," Maribelle watched the tactician with eagle eyes.

"I suppose we do," he nodded, striking up a bold pose before the desk.

"Then, given the circumstances, I shall hereby declare the trial of Gaius to be in session," the judge announced. A few whispers passed through the courtroom. "It was my understanding," the judge continued, withdrawing a sheet of paper from his desk, "that the prosecution has a witness to bring forth. Is that correct?"

"It is, Your Honor," Maribelle bowed her head, "he can testify as to having seen the defendant at the scene, committing the act. Definitive proof of his guilt."

"That remains to be seen," Robin reaffirmed.

"The prosecution will call upon Mr. Vaike, Your Honor," Maribelle proceeded dully.

_Vaike?_ Robin raised an eyebrow. _Did I hear that right? Her "definitive proof" is from _Vaike?

"There you are, sir," Robin heard the judge remark. He turned to watch the man with the spiky blond hair take his place at the stand.

"Yo, Robin! That was a helluvan entrance, buddy!" Vaike smirked from behind the stand.

"The witness will refrain from making extraneous remarks," Maribelle cut him down with a glare. "Will the witness please state what he observed on the night of the crime?" she stared at him.

"Aw, c'mon, Mary! Aren't you gonna ask the Vaike his name and profession?" he grinned, thumbing at himself.

"No," Maribelle growled, "you never stop saying your name, and we all know you don't have a job."

"But I'm a man of the people!" he beamed a smile.

"You're a man who's going to testify or lose his head," Maribelle barked. Vaike quit smiling.

"This is already a rather strange affair, so I would appreciate your cooperation in expediting things, Mr. Vaike," the judge remarked, massaging the bridge of his nose.

"All right, all right, sure thing, gramps! The Vaike is gonna win one for justice!" Vaike shouted, slamming a determined fist on the stand.

_'Win one for justice?' _Robin sighed,_what is this, a stage performance?_

Vaike cleared his throat quite deliberately, and then stared straight ahead into the faces of the judge and opposing counsels, "Here's how it was, all right? The Exalt and I, we're old pals, see? I happened to be dropping by on one of my very special visits to His Highness, when, all of a sudden, I heard this weird noise. I entered the halls of the castle and saw Mr. Sweet Thief over there duck into a different hallway. I followed him until I figured out where he was goin': the treasury. I watched him bag a couple of artifacts and saw him dash for a wall. I lost him in the shadows after that."

"A relatively concise and descriptive testimony, thank you, witness," the judge nodded, pleased.

"You bet, Your Oldness," Vaike stuck his tongue out cockily.

"I'll thank you to refrain from referring to my age, unless you'd like to be the next one on trial, Mr. Vaike," the judge admonished.

"Right," Vaike squirmed, "my bad."

"Well, there you have it, Your Honor, decisive proof," Maribelle dismissed, exhausted, "please render your verdict now."

"Hold it!" Robin exclaimed again, "I-I mean… Just, hang on a second! I have the right to cross examine this witness's testimony!"

"Oh, apologies, that you do, sir," the judge laughed.

_I'm glad one of us finds that funny_, Robin shook his head.

"Robin," Maribelle strained a whisper, "what are you doing?! Just let me get this over with!"

"Gaius isn't the culprit, Maribelle," Robin returned, "why don't you want to believe that?"

"It's not that I don't want to, I just can't, Robin," her eyes fell to the floor.

"Then I'll have to convince you otherwise," Robin surmised, a knowing smile on his face. "Vaike!" he announced aloud.

"W-whaddya want?" the blond man returned.

"I've got a question for you: How did you know it was Gaius you saw down in the castle?"

"Oh, that's an easy one," Vaike flashed another smile, "you thought you could trick me, huh? Probably woulda said, 'it could have been anyone with orange hair and a black outfit,' right? Nope, I know it was Gaius 'cause of that bandana wrapped around his right arm! He never takes that thing off!"

"Well, Sir Robin?" the judge looked to him expectantly, "do Mr. Vaike's remarks have any significance?"

"They certainly do, Your Honor," Robin nodded, "Vaike, where did you say that bandana was?"

"Around his right arm, like always, why?" Vaike cocked an eyebrow.

"'Like always,' eh?" Robin smirked, "Your Honor, I would ask you to look at the defendant."

"Oh, I see," the judge remarked, staring at Gaius, "…I don't see your point."

"Use a Snapshot tome, it'll last longer, pops," Gaius quipped.

"Look at the defendant's left arm, Your Honor," Robin continued.

"Oh, there's a bandana wrapped around his forearm, just like the testimony," the judge nodded.

"But it's on the left arm, not the right, as Vaike said," Robin smiled aside.

"Oh," the judge regarded the thief with renewed interest, "indeed."

"S-So what?" Vaike gritted his teeth, "Left, right, what the heck's the difference? Maybe he was just wearing it on the other side that day!"

"Not a chance," Robin held his finger up demonstratively, "I happen to know for a fact that Gaius wears that bandana for a very specific reason: to cover up a certain tattoo. One that would easily be visibly distinct if the witness could make out the suspect's bandana on his arm."

"Bubbles, I thought we had an agreement about that…" Gaius whispered irritably.

"Yeah, but this is a court of law, and it's life or death for you, so, no holds barred," Robin asserted.

"Crivens, how did I let myself get roped into this?" Gaius muttered.

"Defendant," the judge announced ceremoniously, "would you be so kind as to remove your bandana so we may see the aforementioned tattoo?" Begrudgingly, the thief complied, unraveling the black wrapping, and exposing a rather intricate, stark black tattoo with lettering in the center. Again, the judge's interest was renewed, "I recognize that tattoo all too well. It is given to convicted criminals."

"Oh, wow, look at that. I'm a thief," Gaius scoffed.

Vaike's eyes grew wide, "Whoa, whoa, whoa, whaaaat?! Gaius, man, you're a thief?! Like, by trade?! The Vaike is stunned!" The courtroom was also stunned, however, all eyes were on Vaike.

"…At any rate," the judge digressed with a grandiose breath, "what does this mean for us, Sir Robin?"

"One of two things: either our witness misremembered things, or his testimony is a bold-faced lie, both of which would exonerate Gaius," Robin slapped a hand on his desk.

"Robin, you swine! How dare you?! The Vaike never lies!" Vaike growled, pounding his fist on the stand repeatedly.

"Then you must have misremembered," Robin concluded.

"Yeah! Yeah, I misremembered, is all! I'd never lie in court!" he cut Robin off.

"Then why don't you deliver us a new testimony? One that's factually accurate?" Robin continued, stance challenging the enraged blond.

His nostrils flared in resentment as he began, "All right. I'll tell ya only the bits I remember clear as day."

"That would be preferable," Robin scoffed.

"Shut it!" he shouted, "It went like this: I was going to see the Exalt, like I said, 'cause we're old pals and all. I got to the entrance and heard a weird noise, so instead of going to the throne room, I looked toward the sound and saw somebody dressed all in black with a bandana on his right arm headed for the treasury. I followed the guy and saw him pick up some stuff before he disappeared into the shadows. How's that?"

"Better," Robin smiled, "Your Honor, the witness's testimony reveals there is no way to place Gaius at the scene. The witness knows he cannot, in fact, accurately recall the defendant entering the treasury, and, thus, there is no reason to suspect him of the crime."

Maribelle sighed exaggeratedly, "Oh, yes there is. Along with several orange hairs, there was a particular candy found in the treasury that was not there at any other prior time of day." She retrieved a report, as well as the candy in question.

"I object!" Robin slammed a hand onto his desk, "That's ridiculous! Gaius is far from the only person with an affinity for sweets; that could belong to anyone!"

"You might think that, looking at it, but this is a very special confection, containing a specially refined sugar found only in possession of Ylissean royalty. Only the Exalt, himself, has the authority to distribute the stuff, it's so rare. So, unless you mean to suggest that the Exalt was robbing his own treasury, tell me, who else was in the treasury that evening that might have had such a treat?" Maribelle explained in a calculating manner.

"But, that could still be anyone close enough to the Exalt!" Robin argued.

"Robin," Maribelle sighed, "if you can't let this go, then maybe you ought to ask your defendant what he was up to the day of the incident."

Robin turned his head, "Gaius…?"

"I was… talking with Chrom. He… gave me a couple o' those sweet puppies as a commendation for my support of the Shepherds," Gaius admitted. A roar of surprised chatter erupted through the court.

The judge slammed his gavel down, "Order, order! Please, keep quiet. Sir Robin, have you any response to the statement your client has just made?"

_"Dammit, Gaius" comes to mind_, Robin shook his head. "I… have the right, if not the responsibility to evaluate the defendant's statement, Your Honor," Robin finally announced.

"Very well then," the judge pounded the gavel again, "The defendant will formally testify to his own actions on the day of the crime."

"This sucks," Gaius spat, "All right, Robin. You wanna know what I was up to? I was invited to Ylisstol, into the castle, to speak with Ol' Blue. I came there maybe half an hour after noon, but the Exalt wasn't around. I waited in town for a good long while and marched back up there. That's when I met with Blue Blood and we had a good chat, him telling me all about what a hero I was to Ylisse and how I deserved to be something more than a thief. He gave me some o' these unbelievable sweets as a thank-you before he left."

_This calls for a little quick thinking_, Robin noted internally. "So, you and the Exalt were good friends, then?" he asked.

"I s'pose. What's that matter?" Gaius droned.

"If Chrom was willing to give you an item so valuable as those candies, why would you bother having to steal from him? If you had asked, by the sound of it, Chrom would have given you whatever you wanted," Robin remarked with a smile.

"A fine supposition, but it doesn't change the evidence against Gaius, Sir Robin," Maribelle shook her head defiantly.

_True enough_, Robin cursed. "Tell me, Gaius, from whence did these candies come? Did you see where Exalt Chrom kept them?" he pressed.

"He had 'em in some old-looking wooden box by the window, as I recall. What are you gettin' at, Bubbles?" Gaius asked interestedly.

"Is there any reason to doubt that perhaps a third party entered the Exalt's chambers at some point during the day, stealing one of the candies?" Robin continued.

"And just why would anyone do that?" Maribelle admonished.

"Why, to divert suspicion. Maybe such a person knew Gaius would be there that day and was aware of his profession and affinity for sweets, and used those special items to construct false evidence against him," Robin explained.

Maribelle's eyes widened, but her tone remained the same, "An interesting theory, but with no proof to substantiate it, that can only be conjecture."

"And what if… I did find some proof?" Robin smiled smugly.

"I would want to see it right away," Maribelle fixated on Robin intently.

"Well, you'll have to travel to the castle to see it, but it's rather obvious: near the window of the Exalt's chamber is a scratch, and on the window itself: the impression of a hand in the dust collected on the sill," his disposition remained.

"Y-You don't say…" Maribelle's voice softened. She turned away from her desk and clutched her chest.

Robin pressed his advantage, "Given the considered existence of a third party, to draw this trial to a close here would be a gross misappropriation of justice. There is adequate proof to suggest our defendant was not, in fact, the culprit in this matter."

"Well said, Sir Robin. Would the prosecution care to deliver a response?" the judge posed.

Maribelle was busy biting her lip, "The prosecution…has no objection. We agree with the defense's consideration."

"Oh?" the judge fixed his glasses at Maribelle, "Very well, then. I will allow a recess so that Sir Robin's findings may be verified and so that both counsels will have adequate time to prepare themselves for the further explication of this trial." He swung the gavel quickly and with the resounding noise, all the attendees began to file out of the courtroom.

Robin wiped a few drops of sweat from his brow as he entered the lobby, sighing loudly in relief. He jumped as a hand landed on his shoulder, but was relieved to find it was Maribelle's.

"That was some good digging you did, Sir Robin," she folded her arms.

"Necessary to reveal the truth," Robin surmised, looking away, "Do you want to tell me what's going on here? Why are you working so hard to prosecute your own husband?"

She bit her lip again, staring at the floor, "No special reason. He was arrested, brought in under the law. I have to do the most I can to see him... Brought to justice." She lifted her head to stare at the young man, "And you have to do yours to keep him alive."

"Of course," Robin nodded understandingly.

"I leave you to it. I've preparations to make," she droned, quickly pivoting away.

"Right," he also turned away, running a hand through his hair when she left his field of view. He sat down and collected himself, _Nothing's right here, nothing at all. First and foremost, Maribelle is going above and beyond the call of duty to see Gaius executed. That doesn't make any sense; if she wanted him free, she could say next to nothing and let me take this trial. Then there's Gaius himself, he kept telling me he didn't want me to bother. He told me I was "making a mistake," but why? There's something deeper going on here, and I'm willing to bet it has something to do with that third party. Whether you want me to or not, Gaius, I'm going to figure out what's going on here._

"Bubbles," Gaius growled in a low tone as he entered the courtroom.

"Gaius, I was looking to have a chat with you," Robin stood.

"Nothin' to chat about. Just give this up, Bubbles, it's bigger than you or me. It's just like that, okay?" he spat.

"No, not okay!" Robin shook his head, "I bothered to take up this case because you're a friend, Gaius, and because I could tell, from the moment I set eyes upon that impression in the windowsill that it wasn't you."

"Bah," Gaius dismissed.

"Stop that," Robin chided, "Tell me what's going on, I can help you through this is you just give me information."

"No go, Bubbles," Gaius crossed his arms, adamant.

"Then I'll drag you before the judge and pull it out of you, your choice," Robin stared intently at the thief.

"You are one arrogant, persistent dastard, aren't ya?" Gaius snickered, "Maybe there's hope after all…" He looked to the ceiling, then quickly back down, "I gotta go, Bubbles, I think they're summoning me."

"Gaius, wait-!" he threw a hand out after him, but was too late. Robin cursed his luck. The recess would be over soon.

"Father!" Robin lifted his head to a voice.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

"Morgan, what are you doing out here?" he stared at the girl smiling back up, a head shorter than him.

"I've come to provide moral support!" she exclaimed dutifully.

"That's great, honey, but do you suppose there might be a better time for this sort of thing?" he looked around.

"Of course not, don't be silly, father! You're trying the case now, aren't you? When else could I help you win it?" she explained in a matter-of-fact voice.

"Did your mother put you up to this?" he stared straight into her eyes again.

"'Put me up to this?' Whatever do you mean?" she looked confused.

"Just tell me, did your mother tell you to come here?" he wondered.

"Well, yes and no. I asked if I could go see you even though you were working, and I believe her response was, 'Sure, maybe your father can answer all your questions for today.' I get the sense she was a little irritated," she put a finger on her temple.

Robin sighed, "All right, just don't go shouting in the courtroom, okay? You're expected to maintain a respectful silence."

"Yes!" she cheered, "No worries, respectful silences are, like, my specialty!"

_Right, I'm sure the broken window panes would agree_, Robin sighed again, taking his daughter's hand and leading her in to the courtroom.

Another bang of the gavel, "Court will now reconvene for the trial of Gaius. When last we left off, I do believe that—oh?" the judge found himself caught off guard. He stared intently toward Robin.

"Is something the matter, Your Honor?" the tactician inquired.

"Who is this little girl at your side, Sir Robin?" he asked, adjusting his glasses.

"Oh," Robin touched a hand to his neck, "My apologies, Your Honor, this is my daughter, Morgan. She insisted on seeing me at work this afternoon. You can consider her to be my co-counsel."

"I'm gonna help my daddy find the truth, and you're gonna help us, right Mr. Judge?" she pleaded sweetly, eyes sparkling.

The gray-bearded man smiled earnestly, "Of course, young lady. We'll accept nothing less than the absolute truth."

Morgan faced her father and lowered her voice, "How was that, father?"

"Laying the cutesy act on a bit thick, aren't you?" he gauged her incredulously.

"Oh, he's old, father. The cutesy act is all he wants to see, probably reminds him of his granddaughter or something," she tapped her index finger off her forehead knowingly.

"My, what a charming little lady, reminds me quite a bit of my granddaughter. She's a fine young girl, Sir Robin, you ought to be proud," the judge continued.

"Thank you, Your Honor, I am," Robin tried his best not to smile.

"While I will concede that Sir Robin's daughter is, indeed, darling, I would ask that attention not be diverted from the matter at hand," Maribelle cleared her throat.

The judge recovered, "Oh! Ahem, yes, indeed. When last we left off, I do believe the defense had put forth a claim that an impression in the dust on the Exalt's windowsill, as well as a nearby abrasion on the wall were evidence of a potential third party, a consideration that significantly lessens the weight of suspicion on the defendant. The members of the guard dispatched to verify Sir Robin's claims have done just that, so his point will be considered valid and acceptable for the purposes of this trial. At this point, I return the trial to you: what is the prosecution's next action, Magistrate Maribelle?"

"The prosecution…" Maribelle began, the trepidation in her voice evident, "intends to further pursue the defendant's declaration of guilt. Another witness to the crime has made her presence known, and she is prepared to testify as to seeing the defendant at the scene."

"Just as did Vaike?" Robin sneered.

"No," Maribelle's glare was as cutting as before, "Unfortunately for you, Sir Robin, our witness is far more reliable than that… imbecile."

"Father," Morgan looked to him sorrowfully, "I thought Maribelle and Gaius were married, why does she want to see him executed? Did they have a fight?"

"I don't know, honey," Robin shook his head, "they're both acting rather strange. I'm not aware of any prior issues or divorce, however."

"'Divorce?'" Morgan repeated.

"When a couple legally agrees to be separated and no longer considered to be married," Robin explained.

Morgan slapped her palm over her mouth in shock, "People can do that?! But how? Didn't they pledge to love each other forever?!"

"Some marriages aren't always happy. Some people can't stay together forever," Robin sighed.

"…You aren't going to divorce mom, are you?" Morgan looked up reluctantly, pursing her lips.

"What? No! When did this become about me?" Robin rolled his eyes.

"Hey, Robin! We're waiting on YOU!" a voice giggled from the front of the courtroom.

Robin turned his head quickly, "Oh, Lissa. My apologies, I was just answering a question for Morgan.

"I see her there," the exalt's sister smiled, "Hi, little Morgan! How are you and mommy doing, sweetheart?"

"Just fine, thank you, Mrs. Lissa," Morgan waved, smiling back.

Maribelle grasped at her blouse irritably, "Can we please get to the testimony, Lissa, dear?"

"Oh, right," Lissa nodded appreciatively, "Sure thing, Maribelle."

"Then, the witness will testify as to what she observed on the evening of the crime," Maribelle continued, "specifically, the person she witnessed, as I will allow her to explain."

"You got it!" Lissa cheered, "I don't think I have to tell anyone here, I'm Chrom's sister. I was in the castle that night, just getting a late-night snack before turning in, when all of a sudden, I heard thumping, like someone coming up a set of stairs. I went to check it out, and ended up following it all the way to the treasury, until I was bull rushed by someone darting out of it! Knocked me flat on my royal back, the jerk! I glanced up at him as he darted away: orange hair, dressed all in black, and he dropped one of the wrappers for those special sweets on the ground as he fled. If you ask me, there's only one possibility as to who that was: Gaius."

"But you never saw this man's face, then?" Robin asked as she finished.

"No… But, who else does that sound like to you, Robin?" she put her hands on her hips.

"Fair enough." Robin sighed, straightening his cloak, "but suppose it was someone wearing a disguise?"

"Proof, Robin," Maribelle reminded, "there would need to be something to suggest that were the case first if you wanted to press that line of thinking."

"Father," Morgan stared intently ahead.

"Is this important, Morgan?" he asked, not looking away.

"Maybe, what's Lissa got on her shirt there?" she asked, nodding her head in the direction.

_Good question_, Robin stared straight ahead, evaluating her shoulder. "Lissa?" he addressed.

"Yes?" she lifted her head.

"What's happened to your shoulder? Why is it covered like that?" he noted.

She grasped the fabric adorning her shoulder, "Just a little accessory; no big deal."

"The way you're guarding it leads me to believe otherwise," he surmised.

"Objection," Maribelle called, "irrelevant. I would ask the defense to remain focused on the task at hand."

"Suppose I could prove the witness's shoulder was related to the crime?" Robin challenged.

Maribelle's eyes narrowed, "Then I would be interested to hear how you might purport that to be."

"Lissa, could you please remove that fabric from your shoulder?" Robin asked.

Her eyes shifted, "I don't have to. N-No."

"Lissa, please—"

A bang of the gavel, "Sir Robin, the young lady has refused, and I'm inclined to be on her side in this instance. Unless you can prove to me that the condition of the witness's shoulder is relevant, I'll ask you to move on."

_That's no good_, Robin shook his head, _Lissa's shoulder is the only leg I have to stand on so far._

"It's odd, isn't it, father?" Morgan noted, "Why is Lissa so uncomfortable about her shoulder. She's acting suspicious."

"Yes, but I'm afraid there's nothing I can do without proof," Robin lamented.

Morgan clenched her fists, "Well then, prove it, father!"

"Sir Robin? We are awaiting the continuation or completion of your cross examination," the judge beckoned.

"A moment to confer with my co-counsel, if you please, Your Honor," Robin reported. The judge shrugged his shoulders. Robin turned to his daughter, "Any ideas on how I might set about proving it?"

"Wha-? You're the lawyer," she cocked an eyebrow. After a moment, she pressed her index finger to the side of her head to think, "But, I guess, if it were me… I don't know, was there something that Lissa testified as happening that might have resulted in something happening to her shoulder?" She stared at her father as he considered, "I'm sorry, I guess that wasn't much help."

"No, no," he smiled, "you brought my focus back precisely where it needed to be." He faced Lissa, "Tell me, Lissa, you said your assailant knocked you 'flat on your royal back,' is that right?"

"Uh-huh," she nodded irritably, "jerk."

"Did you sustain any injuries as a result?"

"I-I," her eyes whipped around the room again, "N-No. Nothing. I'm fine. The picture of health."

"You're trying my patience, Sir Robin. I fail to see how Lissa's health impacts the innocence of your client," Maribelle tutted.

"I assume you were attended to by a physician after that ordeal regardless, yes?" Robin ignored her and pressed on.

"Y-Yeah. But I was fine, they let me go," she dismissed.

"I would like to have a look at that physician's records," Robin slapped a hand on his desk.

Maribelle rolled her eyes, "We're not getting anywhere here, Robin. Evidence. You need evidence before the court acts on any suggestion."

"Then it's a good thing I conducted my own investigation and picked up those exact records," Robin smirked.

"This had better be important, Sir Robin. You're on thin ice with so loose a relation to the crime," the judge sighed.

Robin read, "Patient suffered negligible, if any injuries, save for one: a rather strangely deep laceration on the shoulder."

"What now?" Maribelle scolded.

"And the relevance, Sir Robin?" the judge requested.

"Lissa claims to have been knocked on her back, which doesn't seem to be the sort of injury that would result in a laceration on the shoulder, and the report notes it as being 'strangely deep.' There was no blood found at the scene, despite the presence of this injury. Further, Lissa's conciliatory nature regarding the injury leads to the suggestion that Lissa was not where she claimed to be during the assault," Robin asserted, assuming a confident stance before his desk.

"Why… that does seem to make sense," the judge nodded vaguely, "Witness?"

She shuddered, her eyes blank, "N-No. There's no injury on my shoulder. T-There's nothing there. L-Leave me alone…"

"I'm sorry, Lissa," Robin consoled, "but we both know that's not true. Now, please, just tell me: why did you lie to the court, Lissa?"

"I-I… I didn't lie!" her lip quivered.

"Then where did the cut come from, and where is all the blood?" Robin insisted.

"T-The… The blood got soaked up by another one of my dresses, and the cut… the cut was from… Er, it was a cooking accident. Yep, silly me, I cut myself while preparing that snack I was talking about," she stammered.

"Now she's lying even more, father," Morgan lamented, hand to her chin.

"That's how it usually works: one lie begets another 'till there's none left to tell," he shook his head. "Can we see this bloodied dress, Lissa, or how about you tell us how you could accidentally deeply wound your shoulder while cooking?"

"I… I…" she grasped. Her gaze settled on Maribelle.

"How about you prove that Lissa's story was false, Robin? That would be your burden, given that you created the supposition," Maribelle remarked after a quick thought.

"B-But, it's so obvious Lissa's lying!" Morgan called.

Maribelle grasped her blouse again, "Think what you will, child, but evidence; pure, objective proof, is the only substance of merit here in the courts."

"Lissa's hurting," Robin determined, "Whatever this is about, the truth is very painful to her. I'm guessing that wound is just the surface of a whole slew of internal injuries."

"Like an illness?" his daughter supposed.

"More like a heartache," he replied.

"Oh," Morgan's face soured, "should we relent, then?"

Robin shook his head, "We can't; my job necessitates that we keep pressing until we figure out what really happened, no matter how much it may hurt."

She stared at the quivering woman at the stand, "Your job is hard." He nodded.

"Any response, Sir Robin?" inquired the judge.

"I should scarce need to respond to deny such obviously false claims. If Lissa tells us her dress is bloodied and that she cut herself, I would ask to see the dress and instrument upon which she cut herself. If she can provide neither, she is lying," Robin announced, his tone revealing he was none to pleased to report it.

"Robin…" she pleaded, "Don't do this…"

"Lissa, just tell me what's wrong. We're on the side of good, here. We can help you," he coerced, lowering his head to her level as he replied.

"You don't understand…" she cried.

"Then help me to," he extended a hand.

She gathered her vision, staring about the court for a moment. After she was satisfied, she returned to Robin and regarded him carefully, sighing, her eyes completely glassy with tears, which threatened to pour in buckets down her face. Her cheeks were red as she reported, "The truth… is… is that… I was attacked. A man attacked me, bound me up in the castle cellar. He… drove a blade into my shoulder, telling me that if I told anyone what happened… he would… he would…"

"It's okay, Lissa," Robin soothed, "No one is going to hurt you."

"It's not me I'm worried about," she sniffed, "Maribelle… I'm so sorry…"

"What is it, Lissa, dear?" Maribelle begged, her gentle face belying the stern clenching of her fist that crushed and mangled a small note in her hand.

"He said he was going to kill you if I talked, Maribelle," she admitted, collapsing into tears on the stand.

"And he used that threat to encourage you to bear false witness against Gaius. I see," Robin nodded, shutting his eyes.

"Oh, Lissa, darling," Maribelle sighed, breaking away from her desk and meeting her at the stand, "Thank you for trying to protect me. You're oh so very brave. But now the guard can take care of me. I'll be fine. Thank you so much for holding out this long."

The judge inhaled deeply, "This new testimony confirms the existence of a third party, and gives significant reason to doubt that Mr. Gaius is the perpetrator in this offense, giving new meaning to the entire case. I do not believe it is currently possible for me to consider the defendant guilty, given these revelations."

"Hear that, father?" Morgan smiled, "We did it!" He did not respond.

"Not so fast!" imparted a booming voice from afar. Robin turned his head distastefully as Frederick assumed Maribelle's position at the prosecutor's desk.

"Frederick," Robin wondered, "you too?"

"I know not of what you speak, Robin," the knight concluded without budging, "I simply feel as though Magistrate Maribelle has failed to deliver proper counsel on the side of the state in this case. It is with Chrom's blessing that I stand in her place and propose that Mistress Lissa has not borne false witness."

"Ridiculous!" Morgan slammed her small fist onto the desk, "We proved she was lying already."

"Indeed, about where she was assaulted, but not the details of the assault," he discerned.

"Objection!" Robin called, "How are we to believe the testimony of a witness who we are already aware has deceived this court?"

Frederick returned, "As I have just stated, the witness was not entirely deceitful in her account. The remainder of her testimony stands in accordance with the evidence presented thus far."

"Grr!" Morgan growled, "Frederick, how can you do this?! What did Gaius ever do to you?!"

"Silence!" he commanded, "Your Honor, this young lady does not belong in a courtroom."

"She's my co-counsel," Robin defended, placing a protective hand over his daughter's chest.

"Be that as it may, she's making extemporaneous outbursts, and I will not allow it in this court," he concluded with a snap of his fingers.

"You have no right," Robin gritted his teeth, "It's up to His Honor."

"Then I would petition His Honor to have the girl held in contempt," he insisted, slapping a hand onto the desk.

The judge stammered, watching the two men exchange glares from opposite desks. "S-Sir Robin, would you mind asking your daughter to remain silent? Otherwise, I suppose, there is no reason to hold her in contempt," he bleated. Frederick scoffed with his eyes shut.

"Yes, Your Honor," Robin nodded, grasping his daughter's shoulder and looking her in the eye.

"Very well, then," the judge sighed, stroking his beard, "If the State intends to change its counsel, there is a procedure to follow, and given that, this court will adjourn for a period of thirty minutes. It is the court's considered advice that the defense make certain to tighten up their case before proceedings resume."

"Your Honor," Robin bowed before making his exit from the room. He sat down in one of the old oak chairs in the small lobby outside the courtroom.

"I can't believe him!" his daughter screamed after him, "Why is Frederick trying to get Gaius convicted? I thought Frederick was a really good guy…" She put a finger to her lip and pouted.

"It's like I said," Robin raked a hand frustratedly through his hair, "there's something larger going on behind this case."

"Who do you suppose it was that threatened Lissa, father?" Morgan wondered.

"I don't know, but whoever he is, I'd stake my life on him being the keystone to this whole affair," he sighed, reclining.

"Hey, hey!" she called, "This is no time for repose! We've got to be working our tails off to figure out who that guy could be!"

Robin turned his head to the sound of footsteps emerging into the lobby, "Looks like we may just get the chance. How is she holding up, Maribelle?"

"Not well," the blonde magistrate sighed, helping her friend into another chair, "She's utterly distraught."

Robin inhaled and nodded, "I see." Lifting his head, he asked, "Maribelle, would it be possible for you to tell me why you were so dogged in prosecuting your husband?"

"It's… hard to explain," she evaded, looking away.

"Try me," Robin asserted, standing.

She shook her head, "I really appreciate what you're trying to do, Robin, but Gaius is the thief. This would be his third time."

"'_Third_?'" Robin repeated, "Why didn't you bring this up before?"

She bit her lip, "P-Prior bad acts are not admissible as evidence in courts of law."

"But was there something else to those two offenses?" he concluded.

She stared at him viciously, "No." She patted Lissa's shoulder and bid the princess rise as the two made for the door, "Now, I need to get dear Lissa some rest. …Best of luck, Robin."

"Adults are confusing," Morgan remarked simply, watching the noblewoman leave.

"You can say that again," Robin shook his head, grabbing his daughter's shoulder amicably.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

"The trial of Gaius is hereby back in session," the judge announced, allowing the gavel to fall.

"The defense is ready," Robin declared, glaring at the knight opposite him.

"The prosecution has been ready for quite some time, and if I may editorialize, quite ready to conclude these ridiculous proceedings," Frederick declared without opening his eyes.

"As per my recollection," the judge adjusted the glasses on the bridge of his nose as he looked over the minutes before the recess, "the defense had claimed that our most recent witness, the Exalt's sister, had, under threat of death to her good friend, borne false witness against our defendant."

"However," Frederick halted the old man with a snap, "it is the prosecution's contention that while Lissa did not testify accurately to the conditions of her attack, she was indeed still attacked, and did still bear witness to the defendant at the scene of the theft."

"Then I would suppose the next logical step would be a second testimony from Princess Lissa, would it not, Prosecutor Frederick?" the judge concluded.

"That it would," he admitted, "however, milady has lapsed into shock after her experiences at the stand, brought on by our intrepid attorney." He glared fiercely at Robin as voices rose to a murmur in the courtroom.

A quick bang of the gavel silenced them, "Order. Silence, please. So, then, Prosecutor Frederick, what will the prosecution do?"

"The prosecution," Frederick folded his hands behind his back, "seeks a statement directly from the defendant. During the recess, we were given assurance that he would be complicit in confessing to the crime."

"Objection!" Robin shouted, "I was given no notice of this! Any confession Gaius delivers or promised to deliver is made or will have been made without legal counsel; they are null and void."

Frederick shook his head derisively, "That determination is not in your hands, Sir Robin. It is His Honor's."

"Your Honor," Robin implored, "you must see reason. These confessions may have been obtained in an underhanded manner."

"My opinion is thus," the judge declared with a deep breath, "The defendant will deliver his confession. If the defense would like to suggest that this confession is suspect, they may feel free to expose any such notion of subterfuge during a cross examination, whereupon, if enough proof is provided, the defendant's confession will be stricken from the record."

"Do as you will," Frederick rolled his eyes, "there was no subterfuge here, only the easing of a guilty conscience."

"We will allow that to be seen," Robin contended, "Thank you for your consideration, Your Honor."

"You're honestly thanking him for that, father?" Morgan cocked an eyebrow, "He's practically handing this to Frederick!"

"He could have given us nothing," Robin noted to his daughter, "You can never go wrong by extending polite thanks, Morgan, no matter how meager the grace."

"If you say so," she droned, "Er, thanks for the advice, father."

"The defendant will remind the court of his name and occupation," ordered Frederick as the orange-haired thief assumed his position at the stand.

He whipped a lollipop out of his mouth, "Like hell I will. I got places to be today, Freddy-Boy. Hell, namely."

"Fine, then," the great knight ignored him, "deliver your confession and we'll be avowed of this issue."

"Gaius," Robin strained, "think about what you're doing. Think about Maribelle."

"I have," he decided, "Here's the skinny: I was in the castle earlier that day, gettin' some candies from Blue for my work with the Shepherds. When I made to leave, I noticed somethin' I'd never seen before: the entrance to the treasury. I saw it was under surprisingly lax guard, but I kinda figured that was because it was daytime. When night rolled around, I found myself back at the castle, deciding the prize was worth the risk. I ran in and bagged a couple 'o artifacts and beat feet outta there. End of story."

"There you have it; a confession," Frederick crossed his arms, "Do we really need to prolong this trial any further?"

"Indeed we do," Robin affirmed with a determined stare at his defendant.

"Your cross examination, then, Sir Robin?" the judge allowed.

"What do we do, father?" Morgan's voice wavered, "He's confessed. He's given up. What else can we say?"

"Don't be so disheartened, Morgan. I figured he might do something like this," Robin reassured.

"You knew he was going to confess?" she was shocked.

"Not 'knew,' so much as 'guessed,'" he noted, "but did you notice something strange about Gaius's 'confession?'"

"It was short," she pressed her finger to her temple.

"On the right track," he smiled, "think what else."

"Oh, oh!" she bounced, "Do you mean…?"

He nodded, "Gaius. You're being pretty vague about all this."

"So?" he spat, "I'm sick and tired o' this crap. I want to get it over with, so I was brief, whaddya want?"

"I want you to talk a bit more about how you entered the castle at night," Robin submitted.

"What about it?" he returned.

"Well, specifically, two witnesses have testified that they saw someone enter the treasury. If you would have us believe it was you they saw, would you also have us believe you didn't see them?"

"N-No. I saw 'em. But like I said, I made like a banana and split when things got dicey," he growled.

"Then tell me, Gaius: who was it that attacked Lissa?" Robin wondered.

The thief roared, "Agh, it was… it was, er… That was…"

"No clear answer?" Robin touted, "Interesting…"

"Enough of your silly insinuations," Frederick chided, "It was you, wasn't it, defendant?"

Gaius swallowed, "Yeah. Yeah, that's on me, too. I just couldn't bear to think of hurting her again. Awful sorry, folks, but that's why I'm confessing."

"Then am I to presume you also have the associated weapon?" Robin pressed.

"He doesn't, but the state does," Frederick held up a rusted, sorry-looking blade with dried, scarlet blood, "An alchemist was tasked with evaluating it and determined the blood's chemical construction to be the same as milady's. It's our defendant's personal weapon of choice."

"Let it be noted for the record that the defense questions the validity of that procedure," Robin grunted.

"Noted, however, the court will side with the state on the question of scientific evidence," the judge responded.

"N-No fair!" Morgan growled.

"I'll thank you to be silent, Lady Morgan. His Honor might have been soft on you before, but I'll not hesitate to throw you out of here, given the chance!" Frederick barked.

"Enough!" Robin bit back, "Your opponent is me, Frederick. She's got nothing to do with this."

"Well, have you anything with which to refute Gaius's confession, Sir Robin? I would have your answer now," he demanded.

"You would purport that this rusty dagger is Gaius's personal weapon? That he carries it with him all the time?" Robin asked.

"Yes, as I just said," Frederick returned laboriously.

Robin slapped his palms onto the desk "Then I would purport that the prosecution is full of it!"

"Explain," Frederick commanded, "before you're also held in contempt."

"Weapons are always checked at the castle gates, even for congratulatory visits, one of which Gaius attended earlier in the day. Even if you suggest that he managed to elude security, despite being the only one being scrutinized and with the prior knowledge of his profession, I'm interested to know how it is the prosecution would explain the fact that Lissa never testified as to seeing Gaius or this blade, especially given that it was the one driven into her shoulder!" Robin declared.

"She didn't see her assailant or the blade, it's as simple as that," Frederick dismissed.

"Is it really so simple?" Robin touted, "Think for a moment, Frederick: if it had been Gaius, wouldn't Lissa be able to recognize him by voice alone?"

Frederick's eye twitched, "That's not… You can't prove that!"

"Then are we going to forget about the fact that according to Lissa's testimony and this confession, Gaius threatened Lissa with the murder of his own wife?" Robin compounded.

He grunted, "It's not impossible. Your suppositions mean nothing!"

"Please, then," Robin commanded angrily, "furnish me with one good reason why it's more likely Gaius threatened to kill his own wife than any other man!"

"Because he confessed to it!" Frederick reasserted.

"I didn't hear those words from his mouth!" Robin returned.

Frederick growled, "But he must have…"  
"But conveniently," Robin noted, "he left out the part where he assaulted Lissa, almost as if he had forgotten about it, as if it hadn't happened!"

"Are you saying milady wasn't assaulted?" Frederick insisted.

"No," Robin shook his head, "only that she wasn't assaulted by Gaius."

"This is ridiculous, Your Honor! The defendant has already confessed!" Frederick waved his hand with dismissal.

"Let me ask you another question, Gaius," Robin furthered, "What was stolen from the treasury?"

"W-What?" the thief doubled back.

"If this is your confession, then it should be easy for you to recall what it was you took in vivid detail!" Robin deduced.

"I… No, there's…" he stammered.

"Your Honor, this confession is a sham! Gaius doesn't remember a single instance that accurately corresponds with the events of the theft! It's the defense's assertion that he has been coerced into delivering this confession by an outward entity, someone controlling him from out of the reach of the courtroom!" Robin argued, on an inexorable roll.

"That will be quite enough," Frederick shouted, "I have no patience for such baseless assertions!"

"Baseless?" Robin smiled, "I think I have just the base I need."

"Let's hear it, then," Frederick folded his arms.

"Gaius, is it true that this is the third time you've been accused of this crime?" Robin shifted his gaze.

He frowned, "Yeah."

"And what happened in the first of those accusations?" he continued.

"I… dunno what you're gettin' at, Bubbles," he grumbled.

"Is it or is it not true that you were manipulated to steal from the treasury and pin the blame on your now-wife's father?" Robin broke through.

"Th-That's not… I… it was…"

"Answer the question, Gaius!" he slammed balled, white-knuckled fists onto the desk.

"No… I wasn't manipulated, I'm just an evil sonuvabitch…"

"I can read the minutes of Maribelle's father's hearing, if you prefer, Gaius!" Robin leered at him.

"Okay, okay, that's what went down!" he shook his head.

"This has gone far enough," Frederick bellowed, "The defense must explain where, precisely, they are taking this inane conjecture, now!"

"Use your head, Frederick," Robin tapped a finger on his temple, "Think of what my arguments have amounted to up to this point: A third party was present, who knew Gaius was coming, Lissa was assaulted by an individual who threatened Maribelle's life, Gaius was implicated in the theft… isn't it obvious? This third party is our real thief! And our assaulter! And, above all, a manipulator who thinks he can escape the courts, out for revenge!"

"You have no idea what you're talking about!" Frederick scolded, the ire in his voice belied by his wide eyes.

"But, then, who would this individual be, Sir Robin?" the judge wondered, having been impressed to near silence.

"That's where my last line of questioning was to lead me!" Robin smiled broadly, "Gaius, who was your boss at the time of that second heist? Who commanded you to implicate another for it?"

"Bubbles, let this go!" he barked, "You have no clue what you're gettin' in to…!"

"Then show me," Robin dismissed, "Give me a name, now!"

"I… You… This… Dammit," Gaius finally swallowed, his brow drenched in sweat. He produced a small vial of green liquid from within his pocket, "You just had to go and do all this, didn't you, Robin, you bastard…"

"Gaius, what are you doing?" Robin wondered, glaring at the vial.

Quickly, however, the thief sucked it down, "Sorry, Bubbles, but this is one case that has to stay shut."

"Gaius," Robin repeated, "What have you done?"

"It was my only recourse. You done good, Bubbles, but you're still just a rookie. This one's out of your reach. You may never understand, but this is me keepin' you safe… Keepin' everyone safe," he droned.

Robin watched the thief as he stood, "There's always another way, Gaius. Always."

"Not this time… Ugh," he coughed, "Th-This stuff is… bitter." A stunned silence painted the court as the thief dropped in place. The vial shattered as it flew from his outstretched hands.

Robin stared straight ahead as he heard cries of shock and horror ring out from within the court, most all expressing the conviction that the thief had died. Morgan shook her father's shoulder as she called to him, imparting the need to check on the thief, but the former tactician only stood and stared, watching the face that had shut itself so suddenly as it fell to the ground. Robin heard the thud of the body hitting the floor over and over again as the scene replayed itself thousands of times in his head. Then his eyes closed and his fists clenched, and it was quiet. He heard nothing of the judge and prosecution's remarks as they pressed on without his input. He only stood with his eyes firmly shut until eventually he felt his daughter drag him by the sleeve. Upon entering the lobby, he flopped into a chair. Finally his ears opened again.

"F-Father," Morgan shook him desperately, "Please, say something…!"

"This isn't over," he coughed through a dry throat.

Her eyes fell, "But… Gaius… he poisoned himself at the stand, father… There's no one left to defend…"

"There's still someone to find and put to death, though," he declared, rising.

Frederick stepped forward, his mien demonstrably softened, "I can understand how this must make you feel, Robin, but Gaius is dead. There is no point in continuing this trial. The truth is… Well, whatever it might be, it dies with Gaius."

Robin jabbed his finger into the knight's chest, "The truth doesn't die. The one responsible for this is going to receive the punishment he deserves."

"Robin, let it go. This is truly awful, I must concur, but there is nothing to be done for it now," Frederick shook his head plaintively. Robin turned to face his daughter.

She frowned, and her eyebrows knitted in concern, "You're more passionate about this than anyone I know, father, but there's nothing left to fight for… Right? Isn't part of strategy knowing when to cut your losses?"

"If you want to go, Morgan, that's fine," he shut his eyes, "but there's something you ought to know: the only time a lawyer—a man—can admit defeat is when it's all over."

"I don't understand," Morgan admitted.

"There's still a culprit left to find. Even if it's only for the dignity of the corpse of a thief I once called friend, I'm going to find him, and I'm going to end him," he tugged at the sides of his cloak.

After a moment, Morgan responded, "You don't have to worry. I'll follow you anywhere you choose to go, father."

"No," he determined, "go home, be with your mother. This isn't the sort of thing for a young lady to get mixed up in. You've seen more than you ever should have today, anyway."

"Father… Are you sure you don't want my help?" she pleaded.

"Of course I want your help," he smiled darkly, "but I also want you to be happy, and to see the world as one where justice is always done. And here, there's too much negativity, so go home, and I'll bring you back when I've won."

"I don't know what's gotten into you, father, but, if you think it best…" she sighed, backing slowly out of the courtroom.

"You're wasting your time," Frederick cautioned.

"Go to hell, Frederick," the tactician saw him off, adjusting his cloak and walking out.

[*]

"Robin," she announced carelessly as she watched him step through the doorway, "You don't have to tell me about what happened. I already got the news."

"Of course, I had figured as much," he droned, noticing the streaks of tears along her face, striping her makeup.

She stared at him coldly, "Is there anything more to discuss, then?"

"I want to talk about when Gaius robbed the treasury," Robin announced.

"Gaius is dead, Robin. There's nothing left to say about the man," she coughed.

"Surely you can see that there's more to this story than anyone is willing to let on," Robin suggested, "If there's no threat to Gaius anymore, then you can tell me why you were working so hard to prosecute him. Let's start with that."

"There's no reason to," her voice cracked, "it's over, Robin. You've lost. I've lost. We all lost. Leave it at that."

"Lissa," Robin hoped, addressing the girl as she rested with her eyes transfixed to the wall.

"I'm going to try to never to think of this again, Robin," she admitted, looking away.

"So, there's no help and no hope," he surmised, "Perfect. That's when I do my best work." The blondes watched the tactician stride purposefully out of the small building, throwing his hood over his head.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"That's a… damned shame," the older gentleman remarked with a heavy sigh, "But, then, why have you come here?"

"A lot of things are a shame, sir," the hooded figure remarked, "but this is one story that still has a few blank pages left. I think we can get down to the good stuff now, and write the ending it deserves."

"I appreciate the man's service, but what can I possibly say?" the man wondered gruffly.

"You can tell me everything you know about him, the treasury, and any known associates he might have had," the hooded man elaborated.

"Look, I want to help…" the man gestured forward, "What did you say your name was?"

"Lucky," the hooded man smiled slightly beneath the purple rim of fabric.

"Lucky," the older gentleman repeated, "…but I don't know that recounting things at random about the events is the proper way to settle all this."

"And sir," the hooded man countered, "I don't want to cause you any harm, but I wasn't asking." He shifted to prepare to block off the doorway.

"You've got some stones, son," the older man grunted, "but I know a bluff when I hear one. Don't threaten me."

"Don't test my patience," the hooded man leered with one eye from beneath his obfuscation, nonchalantly brandishing a blade at his side.

"You're a damned scoundrel," sweated the old man.

"A scoundrel who needs answers. Start talking," commanded the hooded man.

"It was in the spring, some two years hence. As a nobleman, it typically isn't my experience to get involved in the affairs of simple criminals, but House Ylisse was in need of a new inquisitor, and I expected the job not to mean much work, given Ylisse's reputedly low crime rate. Eventually, however, I was forced to learn the name of every cabal and shadowy organization from here to Great Mila Tree and back. This… Gaius. I'd never heard of him before. I had no idea why he would want to implicate me in something like this. Obviously, I defended myself, but the evidence was stacked strongly against me. Somehow, even besides the planted evidence, there were false witnesses, too. Several of them, all of whom claimed to see me enter the treasury and leave with ill-gotten goods. I didn't know how it was possible.

"I was even more surprised when the thief mailed in that message to exonerate me. I was already kneeling down before the headsman. It was such a mystery that any of this had come to pass on me that I had to investigate further, but, as with all these damned criminal entities, I wasn't getting anywhere, most of my sources telling me to just be glad I got off and leave it alone. I kept looking, though, and, eventually, I found an organization that your thief friend used to be a part of, 'The Bull's Horn.' Criminals and their damned silly names. Nasty bunch, their devotion to their crazy ideals was reminiscent of some Black Fang upstarts."

"Ever find a name on their leader?" inquired the hooded man.

"Hah," he scoffed, "I wish. Most of the guys I spoke to would've slit their own throats before they would've told me their boss's name. Couple of 'em would jerk me around, though, and call him 'The Sniper, the last thing you never see.'"

"Hmm," the hooded man murmured in affirmation, "That corroborates most of what I've heard so far."

"You mean you didn't need me to tell you any of that?" barked the old man.

"No, I needed a cross-reference. One I could rely on," the hooded man surmised, "I still need more details."

"I've told you all I know," the old man tossed his hand up.

"Like hell you have," responded the hooded man, "Do you think me a fool? Your closed stance, all your jittering… Obviously, this is a topic that has you wetting your breeches in fear, but I don't have time to baby you through this with therapy, so how about you just skip to the part where you break down and tell me everything, and I won't have to risk fracturing your psyche or your skull."

"What else could I possibly tell you?" wondered the old man.

"What makes you so afraid of a man you've never seen?" the man with the hood inquired.

"He threatened to kill my daughter and almost had me executed. Isn't that enough?" the man grunted outrageously.

"Ordinarily, I'd say 'yes,' but I've got no other leads, so it all stems from you," the hooded man determined, "Give me something to go off of for this 'Sniper' guy."

Rolling his eyes, the older man stood and moved to a bookshelf in the corner of the room, taking from it a well-dirtied folder, then handing it to the hooded man, "Locations of hideouts. I swear, it's the only other information I have on this subject."

"I can work with that," the hooded man grabbed the folder away, "Thanks. You've been very helpful."

"Piss off," murmured the old man, shutting the door behind the hooded man as he traipsed out, putting a finger to the documents in determining where to go.

[*]

"You got some nerve coming in here," cautioned the rather skinny man who didn't look to be in the position to be making threats.

"Relax, I don't give a damn about your petty thievery, I just want answers," explained the hooded man.

"On what?" the shifty thief asked with a bored yawn.

"Where can I find the one they call 'the Sniper?' He leads you punks, doesn't he?" the hooded man charged.

The thief laughed raucously, "You seriously think I'm just gonna tell you something like that?!"

"I was hoping you might, to save me some time and you from having to swallow your own teeth," the hooded man sighed.

"Ooh, right scary," cackled the thief, "Listen here, you dull-witted—"

The hooded man threw a right hook into the thief's face, knocking him to the floor in surprise. The thief bled a bit as he reopened his eyes to see the man with the hood bearing down on him, "I really don't feel like dancing around with a bunch of scum like you. Just tell me what I want to know and it'll be a lot better for everyone."

"I don't even know where the boss is," spat the thief, "he would never tell a low man on the totem pole like me any info that was that sensitive."

"Then tell me who does know," insisted the hooded man.

"What are you gonna do," the thief growled, "kill me? Forget it. I'd rather be dead than ruin our whole organization."

"I thought as much," the hooded man lamented, "Sorry to have wasted both of our time." He ground his boot into the man's face and walked out.

[*]

Chrom's eyes flittered open and he sat up, bathing in the pale daylight of early morning. Running a hand over his face, he knew the day was to be a long one. There would be at least a thousand forms to sign, and then he would be dragged into another gods-awful councilors' meeting alongside some of the most boring and sleep-inducing men he had ever had the unfortunate luck as to have met. There would be one positive, however: his good friend Robin had returned to the castle for a brief sojourn. After what had happened at Gaius's trial, Chrom wasn't surprised in the least to hear that the former tactician was in need of some help, as well as a place to rest. They could talk, and joke, and have a drink the way they used to… What a consolation for this day, Chrom smiled. Throwing his blankets off of himself, Chrom stood and stretched, deciding to peer out the castle window, whereupon he noticed a crowd gathered before the castle steps. He cursed himself, had he forgotten a speech that he was to deliver that day? Shaking his head, the Exalt threw on his clothes, straightened his hair, and hurried down to the ground floor.

"Milord, please, stand back. You might contaminate the scene," cautioned one of the guards.

"What scene?" the Exalt wondered aloud.

"The murder that occurred here, sire," the same guard reported.

"Murder?!" Chrom realized, "Why was I not told?!"

"It was only discovered this morning, milord, not long ago," the guard explained.

Thoughts racing, Chrom's eyes widened quickly, "Where is Robin, is he all right?"

"Robin, sir…" the guard seemed afraid to make the news, drawing silent as he managed the final syllable. There was no need, however, as Frederick brought the former tactician forward, his hands clasped together in shackles and his cowl obscuring his face.

"Robin!" Chrom jumped, "Frederick, what in the seven hells is going on here?"

"Robin has been accused of murdering Lord Perceval, milord," the knight reported dutifully, wearing a scowl.

Chrom peered through the doorway: a man, it was indeed the noble called Perceval, Chrom recognized, lay collapsed on the floor, a pool of his scarlet blood flowing from beneath him, staining the ground. "Why has Robin been accused?" the Exalt managed, barely able to surpass the shock.

"Lord Perceval was discovered to have connections to the 'Bull's Horn,' milord, an organization with which our former tactician has had… more than a few recent disputes," Frederick explained distastefully.

"Robin," Chrom hoped, "is this true? Did you kill Lord Perceval because of his connections? Only tell me now, and I can help you."

"That certain I've done it, eh?" the hooded figured chuckled painfully, "I leave it in your hands, then, Chrom. Go on, be like the others, say it was me and they'll hang me on the spot."

"Can't you just tell me what happened?" Chrom barked.

"It's not worth it, not a one of you will believe me, anyway," he lamented with a sardonic grin on his face.

"You always were a stubborn bastard, Robin," Chrom scoffed, "but this is ridiculous. Your life is on the line, here! Tell me what happened!"

"It's no use," he shook his head, "If you're asking, your mind has already been made up."

"Dammit, Robin," he railed, "I'm the Exalt! I can help you through this! Just tell me you're innocent, and I'll help! Even if you're guilty, I swear I'll help you!"

"Aren't you listening?" Chrom could feel the tactician's voice grow more earnest from beneath the veil of his cowl, "If you have to ask, then you don't need me to tell you, do you?"

"This will end up going to trial if you don't say anything, Robin, and then I can't guarantee any help for you," the Exalt pleaded.

The hooded figure made no noise as he was led away by the knight.

[*]

"Court is now in session for the trial of…" the judge paused to examine the paper he held, adjusting his glasses and then stroking his beard, as if unsure what to make of the writing, "Sir Robin of Ylisse."

"Present and accounted for," droned the figure at the forefront of the courtroom, the ghost of a smile clinging to the sides of his mouth.

"Sir Robin…" the judge lamented, "How unfortunate, to find you back in my courtroom in such… unscrupulous circumstances. You must have taken that young thief's fall very hard."

"There's no place in court for speculation, Your Honor," he smiled sarcastically, "let's stick to the facts of this trial and get it over with."

"I couldn't agree more," assented the knight who stood at the prosecution's bench.

"And Sir Frederick," the judge raised his eyebrows in surprise, "You've returned as well? Haven't you some other duties as Knight Captain of Ylisse?"

"None that must come before what I have been tasked with today," the knight resolved enigmatically.

"Now, Sir Robin," he continued, "I do not see your advocate in today's trial. Will he be arriving soon?"

"Sooner than you might think, Your Honor," Robin smirked.

"Oh?" the judge asked uselessly, not understanding the tactician's intention. Shortly, the young man grasped his cloak and stepped over to the defense's bench, resting his hand comfortably upon it.

"You can't be serious…" Frederick rolled his eyes.

"Shouldn't you save that spot for your representation, Sir Robin?" the judge posed with a blank face.

Robin shut his eyes, struggling not to smirk, "I apologize if I've been unclear, Your Honor: I _am_ my representation. I'll be defending myself."

"I see…" the judge reclined in his seat, "Are the defense and prosecution prepared, then?"

"The prosecution is always ready," affirmed Frederick.

"Just a moment," requested Robin, producing a mug from his side, "I'd like to take a bit of tea to calm myself before we begin."

"Try to be serious for once, Sir Robin," scolded the knight.

"I am," he corrected, sipping carefully from the soft china, "A bit of spearmint or green tea helps me to focus, and I'd like to be in the best of shape for this trial."

"There's no teatime before trials, Sir Robin!" Frederick impounded.

"Don't be such a stick in the mud, Sir Frederick," Robin took another sip and smiled at the knight over the mug, "Don't you like tea? Roots or leaves, drawing the light of the sun, bathed in crystal clarity and steeped through the crucible of impossible heat, crushing out the very essence of… that sweet taste? I find it beautiful, in that regard."

The knight rolled his eyes, "Just finish your damn tea and let's move this along."

He gulped the last of it down, "Thank you. I'm ready to begin now."

"Very well, then," nodded the judge, "Would the prosecution like to deliver an opening statement?"

"The subject today is the murder of a noble of House Ylisse, Lord Perceval. He was apparently stabbed to death in the castle halls sometime overnight, while most of the guard was asleep," explained the knight, "I must say I consider it something of a personal failure that we were not able to protect Lord Perceval, and I do so apologize and regret it."

"It is good to see you taking such responsibility, Sir Frederick," the judge nodded affably, "but I doubt it is necessary. Likely this criminal would have acted against even the best of defenses, and even more likely it is not by your fault that Lord Perceval was felled. I remain confident that Ylisse is in good hands."

"Thank you, Your Honor," the knight nodded in deference.

"Aside from lauding a failure of the Ylissean guard, is there anything else we wish to establish?" Robin inquired impatiently.

"Naturally, there was a reason Sir Robin was implicated above anyone else within the castle that evening: Lord Perceval was known to be associated with a band of thieves who have taken to calling themselves the 'Bull's Horn.' Sir Robin appears to believe that this organization was responsible for Gaius's implication in the theft that occurred in the treasury not long ago and subsequent suicide, so it is no wonder that he may wish their members dead," Frederick lectured.

"A very compelling case," acceded the judge, "Does the defense have any response?"

"Naturally, my plea is 'not guilty,' Your Honor, and so it will thus be my objective to refute the arguments of the prosecution in today's trial. If there exists some evidence of my partaking in the crime, I invite the prosecution to bring it forward, and I will strike it down. That is all," commented Robin.

"Understood," the judge reclined again, "Sir Frederick, do you have any such evidence?"

"Of course," he surmised, "Allow the prosecution to commence with our first witness: Sully, a fellow knight of Ylisse." As the words left his mouth, the young woman with short red hair strode forward and leaned into the witness's stand.

"Sully. It's been a while," Robin concluded airily.

"Don't talk ta me, ya damn murderer," she barked. He scoffed quietly to himself and faced away, lowering his eyes to his desk.

"Sully, if you would be so kind, could you tell the court what you witnessed three evenings ago?" Frederick requested.

"As sure as I'm Ylissean," she put her fist to her chest to show her solidarity, "As a knight of Ylisse, I'm required to do a spot of guard duty, just like everyone else. I'm not much of a 'people person,' so I decided I would volunteer for a night shift. Fast forward a couple weeks, and there I am, in the castle, just guarding the door, dull as any other night, when I heard footsteps. I looked around to find Lord Perceval strutting about like cock of the walk, which was unusual, but not illegal. I turned back around as I heard him walk down the other end of the hall. Not five minutes later, I heard this big crash from within one of the chambers, so I went to go have a look. As I drew up on the scene, I saw Robin standing in front of Lord Perceval, who had fallen, and then I was knocked unconscious."

"So you saw me on the scene and fell unconscious. Tell me, Sully, what does that really stand to prove?" Robin led, gesturing with his hand.

"Perceval was already dead when I saw you standing there, of that I'm sure. Seems to me you killed 'im and knocked me out when I arrived," she growled back.

"It seems like it would take a lot to knock you out, Sully. What makes you think I have that kind of strength?" Robin pressed.

She shook her head, "Much as I hate to admit it, I ain't too resilient when someone else manages to get the drop on me."

"You say you know Lord Perceval was already dead… so, tell me, Sully, did you see what had killed him?" Robin asked.

"I… think so," she struggled a moment, "it was an arrow, not sure what kind, but an arrow for sure."

"An… arrow, you say?" Robin repeated.

"Yessir, sure as shoot, an arrow," she concurred.

"Now, that's interesting, Sully, because the official report filed by the Ylissean Guard declares Lord Perceval to have been killed by a stab wound, such as a dagger," the tactician touted.

"Well, you can still stab a fella with an arrow, can't ya?" she recovered.

"True enough, but, then, tell me this, Sully: where is this arrow? None were found by the guard," Robin pushed.

"I… Somebody could have just run off with it, namely, you," she redirected.

He shook his head, "But you didn't observe me doing that, did you? And if I did hide the arrow, shouldn't it have been found on my person, or somewhere in the entire castle that was searched?"

She snarled, "Maybe you hid it outside the castle."

He smiled, "I was hoping you'd say that. I was in the castle the entire night, I have multiple witnesses who can corroborate that much. That's even a tenet of the State's argument today. If the arrow wasn't in the castle or on my person, I never had it."

"That's… That's a buncha crap," she cracked her knuckles, "You musta hid it somewhere else. Somewhere nobody'd find it, even in the castle. Maybe somewhere in Chrom's place, seein' as nobody's allowed to look there, and you two are all buddy-buddy."

Robin shook his head again, his voice incredulous, "Are you claiming I marched up to the Exalt's chamber, bloody arrow in hand, in the middle of the night without anyone noticing? Really, Sully, think about what you're saying."

"Sir Robin," coughed the judge, "would you care to tell us exactly what you are claiming this discrepancy in the witness's testimony to mean?"

"Absolutely," he nodded, "I don't doubt that Sully is telling the truth: she saw the arrow in Perceval's body. The only thing I call into question are her suppositions: I would suggest that someone else removed and hid that arrow, replacing it with a dagger later."

"And what proof do you have of that?" Frederick demanded.

"None save the proof I have demonstrated that _I_ couldn't possibly have removed and hidden the arrow. Knowing, however, that it wasn't I, Sully, or certainly Lord Perceval, I would ask the court, who else could have removed and hidden that arrow?" Robin suggested.

"Useless conjecture," the knight growled, "You need to tell this court who you think might have done such a thing and prove their involvement, or your story will fall flat."

_I'm not exactly sure I know how I can do that_, Robin admitted, _but it isn't going to hurt to try. I have to just put my best foot forward and hope it'll be enough to keep me afloat_… _Gaius, I'll save both of our good names, starting here!_


	5. Chapter 5

"Sir Robin," directed the judge, "We in the court would be interested to know, who is it that you believe hid the arrow that Knight Sully witnessed?"

"Perhaps you could also supply us with 'why?'" compounded Frederick.

"Let's take a look at this scene, and use a logical determination to arrive at our answer," offered Robin, "Have a look; this is a map procured from a local cartographer for getting around the capital. You can see the castle here, in the center. Now, I would petition Sully for a statement: at what orientation was the arrow when you saw it?"

"Uh…It was in 'im at an angle. The head was closer to me," the redheaded knight recalled.

Robin nodded and elaborated, "Meaning it had to have come from higher ground, and from an easterly direction, given the position of Lord Perceval's body at that time."

"This is no proof," growled Frederick, "Sully might simply have misremembered."

"If that's your claim, then her whole testimony is suspect. What do you have on me then, Frederick?" Robin returned. The knight scoffed frustratedly.

"What is the significance of the arrow's direction, Sir Robin?" inquired the blank-faced judge.

"That's simple, Your Honor. If we take a look at the map again, let's look at what's to the east of the castle's east wing, where Sully claims to have followed me to," he pointed on the map, "This building, here, is the closest. And, lucky for our assassin, it has several stories, one of which sits at a very nice angel to the east wing window."

"Hah!" scolded the knight, "That was a very nice conspiratorial tangent, Sir Robin, but it had to end its root in fact eventually. Are you telling me you think an arrow was fired through the east wing's lower floor window?"

"T-That was my explanation, yes," admitted Robin.

Frederick smiled, "Do you think Ylisse's best builders to be fools? That window is made of a special material, specifically crafted to be thick and repel arrows. And, since I know you're going to claim that it was still possible for an arrow to have punctured it, let me give you another piece of information: the windows were inspected the previous evening and the morning after the murder. They showed no damage."

"But…that can't be…" Robin grunted, "Then who do you suppose fired the arrow?"

"No one," the knight surmised, "Seeing as how you've clearly given some thought to it, Robin, I suspect that you stabbed Lord Perceval with the arrow at an angle to use it in Sully's testimony, then later stabbed him with the dagger to change the story again."

"Then, let me ask you again, Frederick: where could I have hidden the arrow?" Robin gritted his teeth.

"I might know just the place," Frederick touted, "You know, there was another murder in the castle that evening. Less publicity, being that it was only a guard, doing his duty, but there was one puzzling instance about it: no weapon was found, despite him appearing to have died from a stab wound."

"How does this relate to the arrow you purport Sir Robin to have concealed, Sir Frederick?" questioned the judge.

"An examination of the guard's quiver, in the following days, revealed a single arrow whose head was tinged with blood," the knight announced.

"Are you saying…?" Robin started.

Frederick rapped his finger off his temple, "Exactly. That arrow was the very same weapon used to kill Lord Perceval."

"But, how could I be the killer, then? I wasn't even aware of that second killing,"Robin defended.

"So you claim," dismissed the knight.

Robin pressed on, "Well, how do we know that was Lord Perceval's blood? What makes you think it isn't just the guard's?"

Frederick shook his head, "While I can offer no definitive proof, consider the circumstances. Why hide a murder weapon on the corpse, and where else could this arrow possibly have gone? So far, it's the only reasonable explanation."

"'Reasonable'is a stretch," Robin grumbled. _Damn_, Robin cursed, _I'm in a really bad way, now. I have to find a way to settle this arrow business and move on, or I'll be put away before noon. I have to think carefully, here. Maybe I should think about this from a different perspective: instead of wondering why the arrow was there, or where else the arrow could have been, I wonder how the arrow could have gotten there? I know I didn't slip it into the quiver, so someone else had to have. Okay, now, let's probe for some information_. "Sir Frederick!"Robin called.

"Yes?"the knight grunted tiredly.

"Where did this second killing occur?" Robin asked.

"In one of the basement hallways, the guard was procuring additional arrows from the armory, according to his comrades," he explained.

"The armory?" Robin jumped.

"Don't get too excited, Robin," Frederick breathed, "The armory was under lock and key all night. I have the keys myself, so I know no one took them. And the door was still locked the next day."

This is bad, but I got what I wanted

, Robin sighed, _There has to be some alternate explanation for all these events… but what is it? Dammit, I can't see it anywhere…! There has to be something…_

"Sir Robin," the judge snapped him out of it, "this court would like to hear an explanation as to whether or not that arrow might be the weapon used in the attack, and how it is you intend to prove your response."

Robin swallowed, "The defense, Your Honor, has… uh, at this time, uh…"

"Hold it!"

Heads in the courtroom whipped around to the door, where a particular young lady strolled in, a confident smirk on her face, "Misinformation has been delivered to this court!"

"Morgan?"he father asked incredulously.

"Sir Frederick reported that the door to the armory was locked, and while that seemed accurate, an independent investigation reveals that the door was only sealed because the lock on it had been tampered with!" touted the young lady.

"Ridiculous!"Frederick growled, "This is the defense's own daughter! You expect us to believe the results of any investigation you conducted?"

She stared cuttingly at the knight, "You can send any team of experts you like, Frederick, they'll draw the same conclusion. I know my locks. And you know it, too, don't you? You must have felt it before, your keys wouldn't work, would they?"

"I…th-that's not…! Your Honor, get her out of here!" screamed the knight.

"Silence, Sir Frederick," commanded the judge with a bang of the gavel, "I would like to have a team confirm your discovery, young lady. Thus, to that end, I will suspend this trial for a thirty-minute recess. In that time, please be aware, Sir Robin, that you will need to be kept under guard."

"I understand, Your Honor," Robin bowed, "So long as I may speak with my daughter."

"I see no reason why not," the judge banged the gavel again, "This court is now in recess!"

Murmurs filled the air as Robin and his daughter stepped side-by-side into the lobby. Robin shook his head and smiled as he looked to his daughter, "Morgan, I thought I asked you to stay with your mother."

"You thought I would just sit on my hands while you got charged with murder? What kind of girl do you take me for?" she giggled.

"I'm grateful. You definitely saved my hide back there," he admitted.

"Glad to be of service," she bowed, "but… that's about all my investigation turned up."

"That's all right. With any luck, it will be all I need," Robin nodded, "Don't worry, your dad's a pretty smart guy. He can put the pieces together."

"Though he was sweating like a pig on a spit a minute ago," she noted.

"I said I was grateful," he laughed.

"So, who did it, father? Who are we going to indict?" she pushed.

"I have to ensure I clear my own name first, Morgan. The identity of our culprit is bound to follow logically after that," the former tactician affirmed.

"Can't you give me a name?" Morgan begged.

"Just a pseudonym: 'The Sniper,'" he replied.

"What a lame pseudonym," she frowned, "if I were a murderer, I'd like to be called something cool like 'The Emerald Devil,' or 'The Black Widow,' or 'The Inquisitor,' or—"

"Hi, Owain, have you seen Morgan?" Robin patted her head.

"Aw, I was only kidding, father," she smiled.

"So was I. Let's go over my notes together and get ready, okay, honey?" he offered.

"You got it! We're gonna _crush_ that lousy Frederick!" she exclaimed.

"Let's just focus on exonerating the innocent," he sighed.

The pair worked at the notes for several minutes, papers lining the table as several additional guards posted around the room watched with interest. Morgan smiled gleefully, overjoyed to have assisted her father in so big a manner, and her father was contented to see her so interested in pursuing justice, they were on the same wavelength as they worked, until the order came for them to return to the courtroom.

The gavel fell again and the judge cleared his throat, "Ahem, the trial of Sir Robin of Ylisse is back in session. A dispatch of the courts returned with a report on the findings of an independent investigation conducted by Lady Morgan of Ylisse. Their findings… were in the affirmative. The lock on the armory door is broken, due to having been tampered with the previous evening. I return the trial to both counsels at this time."

Frederick was the first to speak, "I'm not interested in the armory door, what I want to hear is some proof that you are not our killer, Sir Robin. And I would hear it now."

"Hold your horses, Frederick," Robin breathed, "this most fortuitous of revelations changes something very important about this trial. Not only does this mean that the armory had been breached sometime during the evening of the murder, it also means that the armory has not been searched since the incident, as I'm told you were the one responsible for conducting that inquiry."

"That is… so," Frederick grumbled.

"Would you care to tell the court why it is you chose not to share this information?"Robin challenged.

"It was because I had been endeavoring to fix the issue in private, so that no one would know the castle was without its weaponry," the knight declared, "At any rate, Sir Robin, what does it matter? What might the treasury have to do with your culpability?"

"I would propose," Robin began, "That another individual entered the castle under cover of night and procured the arrow used to murder our victims from within the locked treasury, breaking the lock in the process, and placing the arrow in the fallen guard's quiver to divert suspicion."

"And how do you intend to prove that?" Frederick challenged.

"I would ask the court to consider Sully's testimony: she claims to have seen Lord Perceval in the evening, walking about strangely, then to have heard a crash that drew her to the scene of the crime," Robin noted, "But, given that Sully testified that she did not watch Lord Perceval all the way down the hall, what if we were to suppose that another person was already there? This person might have just emerged from the armory, given its relative position."

"And what if we were to suppose the killer flew in on the back of a wyvern and did a backflip before committing the murder? Proof, Sir Robin, I would have proof," Frederick repeated.

"Your Honor, I'd like to have a look at that arrow, if I may," Robin submitted. Shortly, the bailiff emerged and presented the small, bloodied weapon to the defense.

"What are we looking for, father?" Morgan asked, staring at the arrow.

"Anything," he admitted with a light breath.

"This arrow does look... different, somehow, doesn't it?" she noted, carefully observing where her father's hand rested in its center.

"What do you mean?" he wondered.

"I mean, doesn't this look different than the arrows we used when we were with the Shepherds?" she put an finger to her cheek, "Does that mean anything?"

Robin's eyes lit up, "Morgan, that's it! Yes, I think it does mean something!" He called to the judge, "Your Honor, I'd like to inspect the standard arrow in use by the Ylissean military, if I may. The gray-bearded man nodded to the bailiff and, minutes later, Robin was presented with another arrow. "Frederick!" he called with a thinly veiled smile.

"What is it, Sir Robin?" the knight answered.

"How can you allow your men to make such gross oversights?" he snickered, prepared for the response.

"What kind of accusation are you making now, Sir Robin?" replied the knight.

"Do you mean to tell me your men didn't recognize that this arrow is of Plegian make?" Robin scoffed.

"What makes you so certain?" demanded Frederick.

"One needs only look at the color of the arrow's shaft," he held both arrows up for the court to see, "The bloodied arrow is hewn of considerably darker wood, as is the style of Plegian vegetation."

"I fail to see how this alters the charge against you, Sir Robin," Frederick sighed.

"I don't see why there would be any Plegian arrows inside the castle at that time," Robin affirmed.

"So you brought one in," the knight dismissed.

"Ah, but I was searched by the guard upon entering the castle, like anyone else," Robin shook his head, "No arrows to speak of."

"So you hid it somewhere else," Frederick continued.

"Where, Frederick?" the former tactician demanded angrily, "There's a concept you seem to fail to understand, called 'probability.' You can chalk everything up to coincedence all you like, but the more contradictoy information I discover, the stranger it seems that no other investigators arrived at the same conclusions I did."

"This is a court of law!" Frederick slammed a fist onto his desk, "I will not tolerate your insinuating non sequiturs; tell me how the make of the arrow exonerates you, Sir Robin!"

"Plegian arrows have been out of manufacturing since before the conflict with Grima, well over a year ago, now. All those in possession of such arrows had them burned by Ylissean military police no later than six months ago. Probability again, Frederick, how do you suppose I got ahold of one such arrow and concealed it specifically for this purpose?" Robin growled.

"It isn't impossible," the knight defended weakly.

"It also isn't impossible that the killer was someone else," Robin smirked, "in fact, it's far more likely at this point."

"No," Frederick breathed.

"Think about it!" Robin shouted, "Sully only saw me near the body, after Perceval was already dead, we have a weapon that doesn't fit the wound that was hidden in a place I can't be confirmed to have been in, and that was of a type that was virtually impossible for me to obtain!"

"Then what's _your_ theory?" Frederick challenged.

"I was waiting for you to ask," he smiled, "Let's take note of the facts: The lock on the door to the armory was broken somehow that evening, where a man ended up dead on the same floor. Inside the quiver of this man was an arrow that didn't fit the rest, bloodied by the death of Lord Perceval. Sully also claims she only heard one set of footsteps reach the area where Lord Perceval was killed, and then heard a crash shortly thereafter, but, think about it: that would be impossible, unless I had been waiting in that same spot all evening, which, testimony can support, I was not."

"What are you getting at, Sir Robin?" the knight commanded.

"What if, say, a thief, one trained in the art of making a silent approach, were actually responsible for the murder of Lord Perceval? It explains the mystery of our broken armory lock, doesn't it?"

"But, then, why did Sully see you near Lord Perceval's body?" Frederick wondered.

"I was only attending to the man," Robin denied with a smiled, "I heard the scream, too."

"Pardon me, Sir Robin, but is there any evidence you can submit that would support this theory?" asked the judge.

"In fact, I do," Robin smirked.

"And what, pray, is that?" Frederick prepared himself.

"Maybe you can tell me, Frederick: did the investigation reveal anything strange about the body itself?" Robin posed.

"No... nothing. Why?" the knight answered.

Robin shook his head, "Why must you lie to this court? Have your men check again, Sir Frederick. They'll discover something very interesting about that corpse: namely, that it isn't Lord Perceval."

"W-What?!" Frederick scowled.

Robin pointed his finger accusingly, "The killer thought he could get away with a little baroque, but that convolusion is going to cost him now. Inside that locked armory, that's where the truth awaits. There, you'll find Lord Perceval's clothing."

"Don't be foolish," Frederick slammed his fist again, "Lord Perceval was found fully clothed at the time of the murder."

"Indeed, he was, but in a replica of his clothing. There's one detail missing from it," Robin smirked again, "Did you notice it, Frederick?"

"What are you on about?" the knight sighed.

"The gem emblazoned on Lord Perceval's collar: supposed to be a sapphire, but, on that charlatan's guise, a simple blue rock.

"And what are you saying, that someone disguised as Lord Perceval killed Lord Perceval? What purpose would there be to such complication of the crime?" Frederick insisted.

"Oh no," Robin smiled broadly, "I'm saying that Lord Perceval is still very much alive."

Frederick scoffed and flung his hands up, "What?! Do you hear yourself? The man's dead on the floor of the castle!"

"Oh, no he isn't," Robin insisted.

"Then whose body is that, Sir Robin?" Frederick called.

"What if I told you it was a member of the Bull's Horn?" Robin smiled more broadly.

"I would say your obsession with blaming them has gone too far," the knight scowled.

Robin tapped his index finger off his forehead, "What other thief might have a vested interest in seeing me put to death?"

"That doesn't mean a thing!" Frederick ascertained, "How can you possibly prove that our victim is not our victim?!"

"Tell me, Frederick: was Lord Perceval ever convicted of a crime?" Robin supposed.

"No, none that Ylissean records indicate," Frederick lowered his brow.

"Then there shouldn't be a tattoo on his left forearm, should there?" Robin pressed forward.

"You can't be suggesting..." Frederick hesitated.

"Time to run a test, Sir Frederick," Robin declared with grandiosity, "how well did your men investigate that scene, including the body?"

"That will be quite enough," the judge pounded his gavel, "Sir Robin, your theories have piqued my interest. I wish to dispatch a team to investigate your findings. In the mean time, I suppose I have no choice but to declare this court in recess." He banged the gavel once more, "Sir Frederick, I should like to see you in my chambers."

"Your Honor," deferred the knight.

"We're picking up heat quickly on our way to the boiling point, Frederick," Robin called, "you'd better make a quick decision as to which side of the pot you'd like to be on when we get there."

[*]

"Father, that was amazing!" Morgan lauded as they stepped out of the courtroom, "You were all like, 'Take that!' and Frederick was all like, 'Noooo!'" She mimicked both of their faces, cocky and defeated, respectively.

"I don't know that that was quite how it went, but I appreciate that you're having fun, Morgan" he chuckled.

"So, you really do have a plan here, huh?" Morgan supposed, "And here I thought you were just winging it, you sly dog."

"It required a lot of quick thinking, but, if my theory turns out to be right, we'll be a lot closer to the end of this than we were before, without question," the former tactician nodded.

"If?" she repeated.

"I don't have all the facts yet, but I'd like to see where this goes," he elaborated.

"So you _are_ just flying by the seat of your pants," Morgan determined.

"More or less," he bowed.


End file.
